The Heat is On

The lizards crawl under their rocks, the hermit crabs shimmy across the beach in search of a trickle of water, the goats bound up the cliffs to find an overhanging ledge to duck under and Madeline and I sit in our house and wonder, "is it too soon to get back into the air conditioned car to drive around the island?" It's a cruel geo-meteorological trick to be surrounded by beaches and still oceans, and yet, be unable to go into them. For the warm blooded Motes girls, the short walk to the beach this week was like walking through the rain forest, only no forest, just intense sun beating down on you through the thick humid air.

In the morning you wake up and you think, ahhh, this is pleasant. A cool breeze is blowing through the window, the fan above you wafts away any burgeoning stickiness trying to break through, and you think, today will be nice. Of course, it's only 6:30, so you go and make your coffee, you sit on the porch sipping, thinking, still hoping, that perhaps this will be a nice day. And then suddenly it seizes you, like an all encompassing body vice that humidity coats you like a scuba suit and you skin screams, no, no, no not again….

Have no fear… May is apparently the worst month on island –the high season of cooler (still warm) temps and breezes is over and yet the summer trade winds have not yet arrived to blow all that humidity back up to DC. But you already knew that, right? It's no coincidence that suddenly our guest rooms are empty.

The retirees we met here from DC, Harry and Louise (Not of HIAA fame), swear that they'd pick a Caribbean summer over a DC summer in a heartbeat. But I just remembered, I forgot to ask them if they have air conditioning. Of course they do. What fool would move to the Caribbean without air conditioning.

Anyway, what was I talking about? It's hard to remember because the heat saps all your energy and concentration. So we've learned to adapt. You think siesta is a Spanish word? Well, who named Antigua? Columbus, that's right. And as he sailed by in the Nina, he instilled in the island a carefree sense of sleep anywhere, anyhow you can in the midday to escape the heat. So a daily toddler nap for Madeline is now matched by an afternoon siesta for Amanda, and Amanda and Preston on weekends. Yesterday we napped till three in the afternoon.

We've also learned to cram lots of outdoor activity into the bearable hours of the day – before 8 a.m. and after 5 p.m. At those times we walk from our house, down into the village and around a little peninsula for a 5 mile walk. It's a tradition we started when Armani arrived on the island – he walks the same path and so we woke up early trying to catch him. We never caught him but learned to love the walk.

The long walk through the Caribbean summer has begun. We can handle it, we're sure. Just don't call to wake up during our naps…